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“It isn’t. Sit.”
Because she had no desire to see what other creative punishments he might come up with, she carefully eased her bare ass onto the stool. It took some twisting and fidgeting, but she finally found a somewhat comfortable position by the time he placed her plate and cup in front of her.
They ate in silence, but not the awkward kind that sent her anxiety scrambling for something to say to fill the void. It was the kind of silence between two people who were completely comfortable with each other.
Which sent her anxiety scrambling for a whole other reason.
“So, princess, what are your plans for the week?”
Snapping herself out of her pity party, she shrugged. “Spend as much time in the ocean and my bed as I can manage.”
For once his grin wasn’t cocky or self-satisfied. It was pure, simple pleasure, and it transformed his face from broodingly handsome to deliciously, panty-soakingly sexy. “That sounds like an excellent plan.”
“Yeah. Ah, what about you?”
“The same, more or less. How do you feel about mini golf?”
The question brought out her own grin. “Is it really a trip to Ocean City without mini golf?”
“Absolutely not. What do you say we go out tomorrow afternoon, hit up the Boardwalk, stuff ourselves full of junk food, and play a few rounds?”
And there she went again, slipping and sliding towards her Little space. Jesus, this man was dangerous. “Maybe.”
“We can save that for another day if you’d rather spend tomorrow getting baked in the sun.”
The casual conversation helped her relax enough to smirk at him. “Trying to keep tabs on me, Monroe?”
“Well, you aren’t exactly hard on the eyes, princess. Why wouldn’t I want to watch you lie around in next to nothing all day?”
“Fair enough.” And she’d certainly enjoy knowing he was watching, as long as it didn’t go any further than that.
She shifted on the stool, wincing when the movement reignited the burn from the ginger that had finally started to fade.
“One more minute, princess.”
Ugh. Why did he have to sound so sympathetic? If he’d been mocking or dismissive, she could have come back with some kind of sarcastic retort. As it was, she could only nod and nibble at her pizza.
That final minute seemed to drag on forever. When the timer on his phone sounded, she jumped off the stool and sent him a pleading look.
Laughing, he slid off his own stool and held out his hand. “Come on, princess.”
Although it felt far more intimate than she cared for, she let him take her hand and guide her to the couch in the living room, where he sat. Taking his cue, she settled herself over his lap, her torso and legs supported by the couch cushions.
His hand stroked her bottom and she felt herself practically melt under his touch. “Where were you going tonight? When you snuck out earlier.”
“I-I don’t really know.”
“I figured as much.” He continued to pet her as he spoke. “So, this was more about testing me, wasn’t it?”
Of course, that was what it was about! She had no idea how far he was willing to take his ‘rules’, so she’d pushed him the first chance she’d gotten. And, if she were being honest, she’d be testing him again as soon as the burn of the ginger faded.
Because that was what she did. She pushed and she tested, until people eventually got tired of her and walked away. There had been a few Doms she’d played with who had enjoyed her brattiness, and she’d more than enjoyed the way they’d tortured and teased and whipped every ounce of submission from her during a scene. But that was all she’d ever been good for—a scene here or there, an outlet for a Dom’s sadistic tendencies.
She wasn’t the type of sub Daddies wanted to take home and cuddle and spoil, and she knew it.
But there was absolutely no way she could tell Bryant any of that, so she opted for silence and hoped he’d accept it as confirmation.
No such luck. The hand on her ass squeezed, hard, making her yelp at the shock of pain. “I’m waiting for an answer, little girl. Were you testing me?”
